So like your voices, and your words so wise,
Who finds thee younger must consult his eyes. 
Thy sire and I were one; nor varied aught
In public sentence, or in private thought;
Alike to council or the assembly came,
With equal souls, and sentiments the same. 
But when (by wisdom won) proud Ilion burn’d,
And in their slips the conquering Greeks return’d,
’Twas God’s high will the victors to divide,
And turn the event, confounding human pride;
Some be destroy’d, some scatter’d as the dust
(Not all were prudent, and not all were just). 
Then Discord, sent by Pallas from above,
Stern daughter of the great avenger Jove,
The brother-kings inspired with fell debate;
Who call’d to council all the Achaian state,
But call’d untimely (not the sacred rite
Observed, nor heedful of the setting light,
Nor herald sword the session to proclaim),
Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe the came. 
To these the cause of meeting they explain,
And Menelaus moves to cross the main;
Not so the king of men:  be will’d to stay,
The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay,
And calm Minerva’s wrath.  Oh blind to fate! 
The gods not lightly change their love, or hate. 
With ireful taunts each other they oppose,
Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose. 
Now different counsels every breast divide,
Each burns with rancour to the adverse side;
The unquiet night strange projects entertain’d
(So Jove, that urged us to our fate, ordain’d). 
We with the rising morn our ships unmoor’d,
And brought our captives and our stores aboard;
But half the people with respect obey’d
The king of men, and at his bidding stay’d. 
Now on the wings of winds our course we keep
(For God had smooth’d the waters of the deep);
For Tenedos we spread our eager oars,
There land, and pay due victims to the powers;
To bless our safe return, we join in prayer;
But angry Jove dispersed our vows in air,
And raised new discord.  Then (so Heaven decreed)
Ulysses first and Neator disagreed! 
Wise as he was, by various counsels away’d,
He there, though late, to please the monarch, stay’d. 
But I, determined, stem the foamy floods,
Warn’d of the coming fury of the gods. 
With us, Tydides fear’d, and urged his haste: 
And Menelads came, but came the last,
He join’d our vessels in the Lesbian bay,
While yet we doubted of our watery way;
If to the right to urge the pilot’s toil
(The safer road), beside the Psyrian isle;
Or the straight course to rocky Chios plough,
And anchor under Mimas’ shaggy brow? 
We sought direction of the power divine: 
The god propitious gave the guiding sign;
Through the mid seas he bid our navy steer,
And in Euboea shun the woes we fear. 
The whistling winds already waked the sky;
Before the whistling winds the vessels fly,
With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way,